


Loose Lips Sink Ships

by one_and_lonely



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, So much angst, also sarah/brendon is talked about but it's mainly about ryan and bden, basically me on a saturday night, essentially it's ryro talking about how much bden has effected him over time, except he has friends lol, have fun pals, he gets drunk, he gets sad, it's hella sad and i cried writing it, ryan is a sad lil emo, there's also a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10507977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_and_lonely/pseuds/one_and_lonely
Summary: “Ryan, truth or dare?”How he got into this position, Ryan didn’t know. It was first a movie night with friends, which turned into wine drinking with friends, and then somehow, at the grand age of 30 years old, he ended up sat on his floor playing truth or dare. Drunk. He couldn’t say he regretted his decisions up until this point in the night though.“Truth”“What advice would you give your younger self, or what do you know now that you wish you had known then?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings: mentions of self harm and VERY brief suicidal thoughts. they're really quite small but stay safe and walk on the side of caution!
> 
> Also title is from Xo by Fall Out Boy

“Ryan, truth or dare?”

 

How he got into this position, Ryan didn’t know. It was first a movie night with friends, which turned into wine drinking with friends, and then somehow, at the grand age of 30 years old, he ended up sat on his floor playing truth or dare. Drunk. He couldn’t say he regretted his decisions up until this point in the night though.

 

“Truth”

 

“What advice would you give your younger self, or what do you know now that you wish you had known then?”

 

Fuck. There it was. The regret. The all encompassing urge to reject and deflect.

 

“Weed. It’s great. Start early.” A few chuckles were heard, but mostly a groan.

 

“Ryaaannnnnn, don’t be a dick. Answer the question honestly.”

 

Ryan sat there thinking. He knew exactly what he wanted to share, but he couldn’t find the right words. Those emotions transcended language, transcended even music. And god did Ryan try to tell the emotions through music. The whole room was silent while he thought.

 

“I don’t know how to put it into words, but I’ll do my best. 

 

“I’d tell myself to fall. Fall hard and fast for him. To stop my hesitation and just fling myself into his arms as soon as possible. To spend as much time with him as possible. To let myself love him like he deserved to be loved.”

 

No one spoke. Ryan had never truly opened up about how much his and Brendon’s relationship had affected him. They all knew it happened, but Ryan always shrugged it off. But now, with a half-smile on his lips, he was talking freely. And no one dared to stop him after he started.

 

“I’d tell myself to stop living in my head and start living in my heart. It’s a much nicer place to be. It’s full of his warmth and his smile and his arms surrounding me. I’d tell myself to say everything I can to convince him that I loved him. Write the poetry I think is cliche, sing the songs that make me feel like he’s standing next to me, whisper all the sweet nothings I can and tell him, for god’s sake, tell him I love him. Over and over until he’s sick of hearing it. Never let him forget the way he makes you feel and allow yourself to be vulnerable, let him see the side you held blocked off for so long. Let him see you cry and let him see you hurt. And most of all, believe him when he says he loves you.

 

“I’d tell myself to fucking stay with him, to stay and work things out. To fight harder, fight for the love that’s so pure and so deep. Fight for the way he makes you feel and fight for the way he loves you. Fight for every single day you fell more in love, for your teenage self helplessly staring at him across Spencer’s room and for the older, but no wiser, you watching him onstage and realising that _fuck_ you’re in love. So fucking in love. And fight for the older you, the one who will only speak of him when you’re drunk. The one who will date so many beautiful, kind people. The one who will waste their time because it will never compare to the love you have for that boy. That boy with stupid hair and the voice of an angel. That boy with his mother’s hips and eyes of melted chocolate. That boy you loved with every fibre of your being and with every breath in your lungs.

 

“I’d tell myself it’s going to hurt. I’d tell myself it’s going to hurt more than words can ever describe, like a knife stabbing the chest over and over and over. He’s going to tell you to leave and you’re going to be fucking destroyed by the pain. It’s going to tear you to shreds, set you on fire and crush your burnt remains of a heart. It’s going to change you into a person you’ll never recognise. You’re never going to truly be fixed. He will ruin you. You’ll never be able to say his name again; it will taste like acid on your tongue. Bitter and vile. 

 

“I’d tell myself to about how I’ll have to pretend. Artistic differences, I’ll say. We’ll repeat it until we’re blue in the face. I guess it was artistic differences; I saw us as in love, and he didn’t. But they’ll never know that, those who didn’t witness it firsthand. They’ll see two friends who just couldn’t work together anymore. I’d tell myself to try as hard as I can to keep that illusion. The less questions the better. Don’t do anything to show the pain you’re in. Except music, but even that will have to be censored- a little pronoun change here and there. The only person it hurts is you. He can tell its about him and not some fair-haired pretty girl who stole your heart. He knows.

  
“I’d tell myself that two play at that game though. I’d tell myself that you’ll know which songs are about you as well. You’ll listen to them on repeat at night. You’ll crave his touch while you sit with your eyes closed, remembering those days. Those golden days. The way he held your heart in the palm of his pretty little hand, and how he crushed it. The way he would go back and tell his past self the same things as you have. The way he misses the taste of your skin and the sweet thrill of first love. The way he’s desperate to remain in your mind. The way he clearly doesn’t know he tortures your sleep with the illusion of his love. The way he’ll never realise that he doesn’t need to write you a thousand songs to stay in your heart- he stole your heart all those years ago. He stole it and never gave it back.

 

“I’d tell myself that life goes on. You go on. You’ll make a new band, find new friends, live in a beautiful house, get a dog that you love more than life itself. You’ll date, you’ll dream, you’ll work and you’ll end up drunk on the floor of your living room during what started as a movie night. You’ll laugh and you’ll be happy. But he’ll never leave you. He’ll change you more than you’ll believe. Your laughter is genuine but rings twisted and hollow. You will never be as happy as you were when you were with him. You’ll continue to live, but your enthusiasm for life will be gone. He’ll take so much from you. The life you will have, it’s liveable, but you’ll never take back your innocence. And without innocence, the world is pretty ugly.

 

“But never, ever would I tell myself what it will be like to watch him fall in love. The razor blade of his joy and the slits of his passion. The bloody lines of his oh so sweet love songs. The way you’ll straight up collapse when you first hear that song, Sarah Smiles, the first love song not about you. The never fading scars of his wedding photos. The fresh wounds of every small mention of each other. The vicious stinging of the knowledge that he’s in love, he’s so fucking in love, and he’s not in love with you. I’d never tell myself about how she’s so beautiful, so much more beautiful than I could dream of being, with her stunning figure and her radiant smile. I would never say what he looks like with a ring on his finger, the same image I dreamed about when I was so in love, except I also envisioned a weight on my own left hand. I could never tell myself about how you’ll hate yourself so deeply and so violently you’ll throw up whenever you try and eat and you’ll shake so intensely you can’t even play an instrument or write down lyrics. And you won’t blame him for any of it. You never could be angry at him. You’ll know he’s happy. You made him that happy once. But now it’s her turn to have the greatest thing in the whole world. I’d never say how you’ll stay up every night, twitching and whimpering and wondering if she knows. If she knows what she has in front of her, the purest form of perfection known to man. How in your sleep deprived state you’ll slowly realise, he’s fucking happy, he’s in love, and how it will bloom a small sense of joy in you. Because he’s happy, your boy is happy, and that’s all you could ever want in life. All you ever aspired to do was make him happy. But you’ll never forgive yourself for not being able to do that yourself. The cruelest parts of you will whisper in your ears how you were never good enough, never good enough for him. I’d never tell myself this, because I would know that there’s no point going on.”

 

Ryan was shaking. He was crying and curling in on himself, but no one touched him. They knew he needed to sit alone. Slowly one by one they stood up and gathered their things. Taxis were called and plans were made to get everyone home. Some gave Ryan a kiss on the cheek, or a hug, someone draped a blanket around his shoulders, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t respond. He was left alone, exhausted. It was only the next morning that he moved from his spot on the floor and got on with life as usual. He tried to ignore what had happened the night before, repressing the memories that had resurfaced. The only feeling he couldn’t quite shake off was a sense of regret- regret that, even then, his words had not been enough to encompass his emotions. They lacked the depth, the vibrancy, the gut-punching power of his emotions. Of Brendon. The swoop and the fall and the utter devastation that he felt when he thought of Brendon’s arms around him. The longing and the pain he carried with him every single day. The way his words never could do justice to Brendon’s utter preciousness. 

 

But that couldn’t be helped. There was nothing more he could do. A million love songs would never suffice in showing Brendon how much Ryan still loved him, loved him more than anything else. Coffee in hand, he picked up the nearest guitar with shaking fingers and started strumming. So maybe a love song would never truly be enough to confess his love, but it was the best he’d be able to do.


End file.
